Three Words You Already Know
by bellibelle
Summary: "You should probably give up, but you won't. Not now, not ever. It's Kurt. You will never give up on Kurt." The first eight episodes of Season Four from Blaine's point of view. Kurt/Blaine.
1. I set sail across your words

**Author's Note:** I was pretty confused by Blaine and the cheating and his character development this season, so I tried to get into his head, tried to imagine how he's been feeling. This is my attempt at understanding Blaine and what's he's been going through over the last eight episodes. Once I started thinking in Blaine's point of view, I couldn't stop! If anything is out of order or incorrect you can just call that my head!canon I guess! Title from the lovely song "Letters" by Branches. Spoilers through 4x08. Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you so review if you'd be so kind :)

* * *

Part One:

You told him to go. You try to remind yourself that you were the one who insisted and encouraged and demanded he chase his dreams, leave you for a chance at happiness, move across the country. Even though your heart was screaming at you, even though you wanted him to stay - even though you had half a mind to chase him down at the airport, singing a different tune, to beg him to stay - you told him to go. You repeat the words over and over in your head for the first few days: he'll be happier there. He'll be _happier_ there. He'll be happier _there._You told him to go. _You _told him to go. You _told _him to go.

You don't have anyone to blame but yourself, you know that much. But you couldn't stand to watch him wallowing in his misery and rejection and self-pity. It was breaking his heart - and so, naturally, it was breaking yours, too - to spend his days working at the Lima Bean and lurking around McKinley and sitting in his house, listless, lethargic, defeated. It was breaking his heart and you couldn't take it anymore. You did the right thing, the thing good boyfriends everywhere would endorse. Don't they always say that if you love someone you set them free? That's what you did; with the promise of joining him in a year, of Skyping non-stop and visiting whenever you could and sending care packages and random texts, of continuing to love him and miss him and support him no matter the distance.

You did it because you promised you would. You did it because he's Kurt and you're Blaine. You did it because he couldn't have done it on his own; because it was your turn to be the strong one. You did it because he needed you to.

You remember all the things you promised him last Christmas: to kiss him and love him and support him and surprise him. So you keep your promise; you keep all of your promises. You surprise him in the courtyard with a song you two love - a song you listened to all summer driving around with the windows rolled down, feeling carefree and young and so very alive - and you can see it in his eyes. You can see that you're doing the right things, that you're pushing him just as hard as he needs, that you're helping him to find his way again, just as he would do for you.

You put on a brave face, even though the prospect of saying goodbye - or, in your case, see you soon - to Kurt sounds like the worst thing in the world, because you know he needs you to be brave. You know he needs you to keep pushing and encouraging and supporting him. You know him. And he needs you. So, you rise to the occasion. You help him pack his things and convince his dad. You help make sure he surprises Rachel - because, really, can you imagine the look on her face?! - and that he packs all of his favorite movies and scarves and accessories. You start Skyping every night to practice, to get the glitches out of the system, to be ready for when seeing him on your computer screen is as good as it gets. You do other things, too. You touch and you kiss and you laugh. You make plans and you make jokes and you make love. And you make more promises. You share with him your secret fears - that he'll forget you in the big city, that you'll be the boyfriend who's holding him back - and he tells you his - that he won't make friends, that he won't fit in, that you'll move on without him, that you'll forget to miss him, that things will change. So, you make even more promises. You squash his fears and he does the same to yours, both promising things you shouldn't, things you can't really guarantee, but things you mean all the same.

You try not to listen to the doubting voice in your head, instead remembering Kurt's broad grin and carefree, excited laugh, remembering his eager planning and excitement at the prospect of his new life. He loves you, you remind yourself. New York won't change that. You contrast the new Kurt - jumping up and down, smiling brightly, excited for his new adventure - with the Kurt of last week, sad and downtrodden and hopeless. Every time he thinks of a something to pack and races across his room to grab it and throw it in his suitcase, every time his eyes light up at the thought of Central Park or Times Square or anything remotely New York related, every time he trips over his words as he eagerly details his plans to you, you remember. You're doing the right thing. This is what Kurt needs. So, you tell yourself again and again, this is what you need, too.

You can't bring yourself to go with him to the airport. You've done a good job - a _great _job, if you say so yourself - of hiding your tears and apprehension and second thoughts from him. He promised you that nothing would change and you promised him the same. So, it's time you be strong, again, and ignore the fear and dread creeping in. You don't want him to know how much you're hurting, how you're worried, how much you're rethinking all of it. Because, in your heart, you know that your worries are silly and your pain will be fleeting and your second thoughts are foolish.

Kurt belongs in New York, not in Lima, you know that. But, you also know that Kurt belongs with you, so what does that mean? How do you possibly reconcile those two things? Does he really belong in New York if it means he'll be so far from you?

* * *

The first few weeks are easy. You look forward to every call and text and Skype session, to every word and story and syllable. You soak in all the details his offers so willingly, wishing you were there with him.

You imagine how great next year will be. He will know his way around, have his favorite coffee shop and park bench and sandwich place. He'll know the subway system and the shortcuts and the secret language of city-goers. He will teach you and show you and share with you everything he loves about the city. Maybe you'll get an apartment together - with or without Rachel - and decorate it in warm tones, classy accents, comfy furniture. You'll be starting your life together. You'll be living your dreams together. You'll be together.

It gets harder but you remember the promise of next year. You hold on to the hope and the dream of what's to come, what will be, what tomorrow and next week and next year will bring.

* * *

You try and you try and you try but still, you feel him slipping away. You feel yourself losing him, so you pull him in tighter. It doesn't work.

His life is flying forward and yours is standing still. He tells you all about Vogue and Isabelle and how wonderful it all is and you listen and you care and you ooh and aah. You respond when you're supposed to and stay quite when appropriate, letting him ramble on excitedly. You can't help but notice, though, that he doesn't seem to care or listen when you talk. He doesn't seem to let you ramble the way you let him. He doesn't seem to hear you, not the way he used to. He doesn't seem interested in anything you have to say. Is McKinley just too boring for him now? Is glee club too juvenile? Too high school?

And, if it is, if your life is boring, where does that stop? Because, if everything that is important to you, everything that makes up your daily life is too boring, too unimportant, too passe, then what does that make you? Aren't you then, by your very definition, too boring for him, too?

It seems like the craziest idea you've ever had. Of course Kurt isn't bored by you or your life or your stories. Of course he still cares, still loves you, is still interested. He's just distracted, you tell yourself. He's just settling in, you say. It will all go back to normal, it will all get better, Kurt will return to you, Kurt will come back, Kurt will act like he used to and talk to you like he used to and listen to you like he used to. You tell yourself not to worry or be so paranoid. You tell yourself it will pass, as every squabble and issue and bump in the road before has passed, because it's Kurt and it's you and you're fate. It will pass. It will get better. You know it. You feel it. It has to be true.

So, then, why don't you believe it?

* * *

You think he's ignoring your calls. He used to always answer when you called, by the third ring at the latest, or else send you a quick text as soon as he got your voice mail, explaining why he couldn't talk. It wasn't obsessive or crazy or codependent, it was loyal. You were loyal to each other. You didn't miss his calls and he didn't miss yours. You certainly wouldn't ignore his calls and the idea of him ignoring yours? Ridiculous. Until, all of a sudden, it isn't so ridiculous after all. Because if it happened once or twice, it would be a fluke. But regularly? It is becoming a pattern, the worst kind of pattern, the kind of pattern that means you were getting left behind. You are getting forgotten.

You can tell he doesn't need you the way you need him. As you cling tighter, he pulls away more and more. His new life is consuming him, filling him, completing him the way you used to. But the empty place he left in your life is still very much gaping and painful, always on your mind. New York and his new life is fresh and exciting and exotic, filled with interesting people and great opportunities and distractions aplenty. So, basically, New York is everything Lima isn't. His life is everything yours is not.

Where he moves forward, you stand still. Where he finds happiness, you feel only loneliness, loss, abandonment. You need him but you don't know how to tell him you need him. You miss him but you can't quite put the feelings into words, can't quite do it justice.

He doesn't understand. He can't understand. He's forgetting you and yet you remember him; everything about him, every touch, every word, every look, every taste, everything.

You can't escape the memories. You can't forget. In the darkest of your dark moments, you wish you could forget him; wish you could move on, too. Even though that sounds more like a nightmare than anything. Even though forgetting Kurt would be like forgetting your name or birthday, forgetting to breathe or forgetting to exist. It would be impossible. It would be unbearable.

So how can he possibly be forgetting you without so much as a second thought? If you meant to him what he means to you the forgetting and the moving on and the drifting wouldn't come so easily, wouldn't happen without notice. If you meant to him what he means to you, you wouldn't be feeling this way; he wouldn't let you feel this way.

* * *

You join every club you can. When that's not enough, you agree to run for president to have something to do, something to fill your thoughts and days, something besides missing Kurt to occupy your time. You try to tell Kurt about it, to explain to him why it matters, to ask for his advice, but it doesn't work. You feel him slipping farther from you, in his own world; a world without you.

Against all odds, you win. And the first thing you think is that Kurt would be proud of you - or at least, you hope he would be - so, you call him to find out; to hear the pride and excitement in his voice. And the call goes straight to voice mail. Again.

You lie to Sam and to yourself and to the world because the truth is unbearable. The truth is unfair and impossible and horrible. The truth is that the biggest, best, most exciting thing that's happened to you all year doesn't seem to matter to the one person who's supposed to be there for you, always. The truth is that your boyfriend's new life is becoming more important to him than you and your relationship and your love; the things he swore would always come first. The truth is that Kurt is finding his place, a new place, without you. The truth is that you feel completely and utterly alone. And isn't having a boyfriend - having a soul mate who's your best friend and confidante and lover and everything - supposed to mean you never have to feel alone?

You try to talk to Sam; to explain to him the horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You're beginning to realize how screwed up everything has become. You're starting to feel like McKinley is the worst place in the world for you to be.

You're starting to realize how your voice has become stifled when it once was sought out, how your talent has been under appreciated when it once was praised and lauded and cheered, how you are beginning to feel insignificant and ordinary and lonely when you once felt so important, so loved, so extraordinary. Did Dalton and the Warblers and being a star do that for you? Or was it Kurt?

You can't tell, you can't really remember or distinguish all the particulars of the past few years. But, when you look back on your high school experience, you realize how much time you've spent running and hiding and changing and moving. Dalton was supposed to be your safe haven, your refuge. And it was. Until something became more important. Until Kurt became more important. Regardless of your feelings now and your pain and loneliness, regardless of not knowing why things have changed so much, you start to blame Kurt. You start to wonder if you would be happier now if you had never left Dalton. You start to imagine how good it would feel to be a Warbler again - to be a lead singer, to be loved and adored, to have fans, to be a rock star - and you wonder why you ever transferred to begin with. And that makes you even more upset, makes your feelings toward Kurt even more complicated. Because when you ask yourself why you came to McKinley in the first place, the answer is automatic: to be with Kurt.

* * *

The new kids in Glee are starting to mingle, starting to flirt and laugh and smile and date.

You sit with Brittany and watch them. You wonder how you and Kurt ever lost that. You miss the days when it was all so fun and light and easy. You miss the flirting, you miss the chase, you miss being chased, you miss being kissed and courted and adored. You miss feeling loved, feeling needed and wanted and important.

Brittany reminds you that you're young, just like those new kids. And you are. And you start to think that something's wrong. Something is wrong with you and Kurt if, after so little time together, you've already gotten boring and bored and lazy. If you're already forgetting to cherish each other, isn't that a bad sign? Isn't 17 a bit young to be half of an old married couple on the brink of divorce? Where is the spark, the fire, the heat? Where is the fun? What happened to the way you used to make each other feel?

* * *

He calls you and you tell him because you're out of ideas and he's still distracted and he still doesn't understand. You need him to know, to understand: to understand how deeply you miss him, how utterly you need him, how you are stranded, lost at sea, listless, unsure, afraid.

You are more honest than you've been in weeks. You tell him things that make you blush, things you only half-admitted to yourself, things that take more effort than he could imagine to say out loud, over the phone, walking down the hallway. He hears the words and acts like he's listening but he's not, he doesn't hear, not really.

You tell him how you feel and it's more searching and needy and vulnerable than anything you've ever said. Especially to him. You tell him you love him and for the first time you remember, he doesn't say it back. He doesn't say it back because he doesn't hear you; he hangs up before you even finish the sentence. He is gone.

* * *

You start to wonder. You start to think and over analyze and doubt. You really start to doubt. You doubt everything and anything you thought you knew.

* * *

You have seen the friend request and thought nothing of it. But now, you see it again and go to ignore it but the profile picture catches your eye. A lighthouse. Your mind is flooded with Kurt and your plans for the future and the life you were going to share and how it's all turning to crap. So, you accept the request. You click your mouse and try to turn the feelings off, to forget Kurt and the feeling of his lips on yours and the sound of his promises in your ear. You tell yourself that you have to make new memories. A lighthouse makes you think of Kurt and spending eternity together? Maybe it's time to change that, to make a new memory to replace the old one. Maybe this Eli can help you do just that.

When you get a message a few hours later, you reply eagerly, desperate for some contact, some conversation. You want the loneliness and the pain to go away. You're tired of feeling ignored and neglected. You're sick of being a second thought, of feeling less than needed and loved and perfect, the way Kurt used to make you feel. It all escalates quickly and before you know it, he asks you to come over. And, before you can second guess it, you say yes.

* * *

It isn't how you thought it would be. Not at all. You push back the feeling of how wrong it is, how different, how unfamiliar. Maybe you're just out of practice. Maybe since you've only been with one person, it's supposed to feel weird at first. Maybe you just have to work through it and it'll get better. You try to get lost in him; to let his hands, rough and calloused, resting on your cheek and your hip, sooth your worrying; to let his lips, slightly parted, kiss your blues away; to let his tongue, warm at it swirls with yours, make you feel less lonely, make you feel loved, make you forget.

It's all wrong, but you don't let yourself stop. You kiss harder and you grind your hips against his. You are eager and you know what you want. You're going to do this. You have to do this. Kurt doesn't love you, not anymore. He's leaving you behind and so you have to do the same. He's not your fate. He's not your soul mate or your destiny. In a few years, you'll look back and remember him fondly: your first boyfriend and first love and first everything, really. First, but not last. First of many. You remember saying that to Kurt, promising him your future, and you push the memory from your mind. You tell yourself to forget, to make new memories, to be present with this boy, to forget, and forget and forget.

Your clothes are off and his are off and things move faster than you thought they would, faster than you want, faster than you can handle. You don't let yourself panic, don't let yourself regret, don't let yourself second guess. You are doing this. You are doing this. You are doing this.

It doesn't work, though. You can't. You won't. But you must. So, you do the only thing you can think to do: you think of Kurt.

You kiss him but you think of Kurt. You touch him but it's Kurt's skin you're imagining. You lift your hips and you stroke and you move and you feel but it's not him and you're not there; it's Kurt and you're somewhere else, with Kurt, together.

This is it, you tell yourself. This is what you need to get over him, to move on. One last time. One last time, with him or imagining him or whatever. You need to get him out of your system. You need to think of him to get through it and then be done. You barely keep yourself from whispering Kurt's name, from moaning it, from saying it as you kiss him, from crying out, from screaming it. You bite your tongue to keep the words in, the words that will only confuse him, the words you don't quite understand.

You are starting over, you tell yourself. This is good and right and new and different and the beginning of a new chapter. It feels weird because it's new. It feels wrong because you're not used to it.

With every kiss and caress and thrust you see Kurt, you touch Kurt, you feel Kurt. Kurt, Kurt, Kurt.

You are erasing him and replacing him and saying goodbye, for good.

Or so you think.


	2. Yellows and pinks tell my heart to think

**Author's Note:** Here's the continuation of my attempt to get in Blaine's head. If anything is out of order or incorrect, you can just call that my head!canon I guess! Title from the lovely song "Letters" by Branches. Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you so comment if you'd be so kind! :)

* * *

Part Two:

After, when it's over, all you can think and all you can feel is how terribly wrong you were, what a horrible mistake you made. Of course Kurt is your soul mate. Of course you're meant to be together. It didn't feel wrong because you were out of practice, because Kurt was your first and only, because you just needed to relax a bit more. It felt wrong because it _was_ wrong. And it was wrong because it wasn't with Kurt. Kurt is your fate and your soul mate and you are his and that's exactly how everything is supposed to be. And now you've screwed it all up.

The heat of the moment is gone; you're no longer wrapped up in it, no longer able to push your thoughts of Kurt aside, no longer able to wish him away, no longer able to think of anything but his eyes and his smile and his heart; his open, loving, generous heart. All the things you were trying so hard to deny – how wrong and dirty and awful it felt, how much you were forcing yourself to continue, how only thoughts of Kurt could keep you going – flood into your mind and it's as clear as day: you've made a terrible mistake.

You hold back a sob as you get dressed, running a stray hand through your hair, feeling the tears pool in your eyes. What have you done? What have you thrown away?

He asks you if you're okay and you're not. You are so very far from okay. You will never be okay again.

When he asks you if it's because he doesn't look like his profile picture, you can't quite form the words to respond. It has nothing to do with him, you know. You would tell him but you can't bring yourself to speak.

It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you and with Kurt and with the fact that you've just made the biggest mistake in your life. It has nothing to do with him or his stupid profile picture, which, you remember, wasn't even of him, but of a lighthouse. A lighthouse. Oh, god. Kurt. In perfect irony, Eli and his light house profile picture make you think of Kurt and the future you were supposed to have together and what you've thrown away and messed up and ruined. You can't maintain composure, can't bear to spend another moment in Eli's presence. You leave because you have to; because you feel suffocated and you hope that the cool air outside will help you to breathe. It doesn't. It wasn't Eli or his room or his bed that was suffocating you; it was the weight of your mistake, of your foolish, idiotic, reckless actions. It feels like a fist is squeezing your heart; squeezing and squeezing and squeezing and it refuses to stop, refuses to give you rest. You don't deserve rest, though. You don't deserve respite or a break. You deserve to hurt and to regret. You deserve to feel suffocated, to feel miserable, to be crushed and to be destroyed and to die.

You make it to your car, but just barely. You stop and bend at the waist, gagging, retching, spilling the contents of your stomach onto the cold, dead grass. You are scum. You are dirty and wrong and a cheater. You can't breathe and you can't think and you can't stop crying.

What have you done?

* * *

You need to see him. You know it's rash and foolish and irresponsible, but isn't that a theme for you these days? Haven't you done plenty of stupid, reckless things? Why not add one more to the list? Why not do something that brings you closer to the boy you love, not farther away?

You book the ticket without asking your parents - refusing to ask permission for something you need so desperately - leaving them a note as explanation instead. You go without telling anyone - because, really, who do you have to tell? - and you hope he'll be happy to see you. You know you'll be happy to see him. You need to see him. You need him.

* * *

You know you should be enchanted by the sights and the sounds and the people. You know you should be wrapped up in New York, should be thrilled to walk the streets in the city of your dreams. But the taxis and skyscrapers and markets and brilliant diversity is all lost on you. You have eyes for nothing but Kurt. You see a woman selling flowers; flowers that remind you of Kurt. Flowers that remind you of the flowers he gave you months ago, to celebrate you. He celebrated you. He gave you flowers. He loves you.

You stop to catch a breath, to compose yourself. You are barely holding yourself together. You need to see Kurt.

You buy the flowers that make you think of him and you continue on your way. You get lost. Several times. But you make it to his apartment and the door opens and there he is. The fist that's been squeezing your heart loosens a bit and you feel like you can breathe again. It's Kurt. There he is. Right in front of you. It'll all be okay. You kiss him and it's glorious. One kiss from Kurt is more romantic and meaningful than everything with anyone else. You kiss him and you remember. This is how it's supposed to feel. This is how a kiss and how life and how love is supposed to feel. It's Kurt. There he is.

* * *

You want to tell him. You can't tell him. You need to tell him. You don't want to tell him. You should tell him. How do you tell him?

Everyone convinces you that a karaoke bar is the perfect place to go and you can't tell them you just want Kurt to yourself. You go and Kurt is so excited, so happy you're there, together again. The fist squeezes tighter, again, reminding you of what you've done. If your heart wasn't broken already, it is now. Kurt has no idea why you're there, no clue that you bring terrible news, the worst news. That you are terrible. That you are the worst.

You don't know what comes over you but all of a sudden you know what you need to do. You need to sing to Kurt. Wasn't he the one who told you to sing what you couldn't say? To let music help you with the hard stuff, the messy bits? And didn't music bring you together in the first place? Didn't Blackbird help you see what was standing, so obvious and so beautiful, right in front of you? Didn't Candles give you the excuse to kiss him, to be with him, to "practice"?

He really is your better half, your missing puzzle piece, so your song choice is clear: the first song you ever sang to him. You know he remembers. You remember. You could never forget.

You introduce the song and you call him the love of your life because how could you possibly love anyone as much as you love Kurt? How could anyone love anyone else as much as you love Kurt?

You pour yourself into the song; your fingers struggle to keep up and your lips and tongue move to sing as your heart races and all the memories of Kurt flash through your head. Meeting Kurt and helping Kurt and "courage" and the Lima Bean and "don't they get together in the end" and Animal and _that song_ and how he moved you and how you had been looking for him forever and that kiss - that amazing, earth-shattering, unbelievable kiss - and all the kisses that followed. Holding hands and talking and sharing I love yous and sharing cookies. Transferring for him and surprising him and singing with him and loving him. Fighting with him and worrying about him. The arguments and the squabbles and Sebastian and Chandler and making up and forgiving and forgetting. You as Tony and him as Officer Krupke and kissing on that stage and "I'm so proud of you" and the first time, your very first time, together. The kissing and the touching and the love. Oh, the love. Promise rings and scarves and duets and making plans and learning together and growing together. Missing him and needing him and wanting him. Telling him to go to New York, pushing him to leave you behind, convincing him it would be okay. Loving him. Loving him so much.

You feel the tears on your cheek and your voice cracks but you don't care. He is your teenage dream. He is your every dream. He is your Kurt and you don't care about anything else.

* * *

You know he's worried about you. You know he could see it, could hear it in your voice. He asks you what's wrong and you can't bear to tell him. But you have to.

It's more horrible and brutal and miserable than you thought anything could be. You hated yourself before but that was nothing. The look on his face, the pain in his eyes, the betrayal he feels and the way you can see it: his heart breaking. Before was nothing. This is everything. This is the end of everything. This is the worst.

You go to bed without speaking and it's unbearable. You don't sleep, not really. When you doze, it's fitful and confusing at best. It's early morning before you finally can let sleep overtake you; before you can't cry anymore, can't think anymore, can't feel anymore. When all of that falls away, the only thing left to do is sleep.

You wake up and you want to talk to him, to explain. It meant nothing, less than nothing. You missed him and he was ignoring you and moving on and you should have talked to him about it. You should have forced him to listen. If he was forgetting you, you should have forced him to remember. If he was hurting you, you should have told him. You should have screamed and shouted until he heard you. You should never have cheated. It was a mistake, the biggest mistake of your life. You're young and you're stupid and you're reckless and you're foolish and you don't deserve him but you love him. You love him so much. You love him more than words can say.

You want to tell him this, all this, and more. You want to tell him everything. You want to hold him. You want to kiss him. You want to make it all go away: his pain and yours, his heartbreak and yours. You want to take it back, to erase the past, to undo it. You want to apologize. You want to talk to him. But he won't listen.

He won't talk to you and won't listen to what you have to say and you give up. Silence consumes the apartment and it's more deafening than anything.

It's time to go and he helps you get to the airport. He doesn't say goodbye, but he doesn't say anything else, either. He doesn't touch you. He barely looks at you. He hates you. If only he knew how much you hate yourself.

* * *

You make it back to Lima in a haze, barely feeling, barely breathing, barely surviving. You send him text after text, you leave countless voice mails when he ignores your calls, you send him flowers. You do everything you can think to do. You hate yourself. You're disgusting and despicable and heinous and completely alone.

Finn asks you why you did it and you feel even more despicable, even more awful, even more alone.

You are a terrible person.

You are horrible, practically criminal. You're a no good, very bad, miserable excuse for a person. You feel like absolute shit. You open your locker and hope that it contains a black hole that will suck you into nothingness. You step on every crack in the sidewalk, hoping one will give way to a bottomless pit so you can fall and fall and fall and never return, never feel this way again. You want to go to sleep and never wake up, not if it means waking up to a world where you hurt the one person you love the most. You want Kurt. You want to disappear. You want to die. You want Kurt. You want to take it all back, to undo it. You want to punch something or someone or yourself. You want Kurt. You hate yourself and these halls and these classrooms and the memories that haunt you. You hate that you can still feel _him_ on your skin, feel _his_ lips on yours, _his_ tongue in your mouth, so wrong because it's not Kurt and _he's_ not Kurt and you want Kurt. That's all you'll ever want.

Shower after shower can't get rid of the layer of grime you feel in every pore, covering every inch of your body; the grime that marks a cheater, a betrayer, a coward, an asshole, a terrible person.

You are a terrible person.

* * *

Life goes on but you're barely living it. How can you live in a world where you've done what you've done, where you've lost Kurt completely, where you've hurt the one person who matters most, who you love the most, who is your past and your present and your future and your everything?

Things happen and people joke and life goes on, but it's all white noise to you.

Mr. Shuester leaves and Finn replaces him and they decide on Grease for a musical and you don't care. You imagine Kurt in a leather jacket before you can help yourself and all the rest falls away. None of it matters. Kurt's not here. Kurt doesn't love you. Kurt's not talking to you. He'll never talk to you again, will never kiss you or hold you or love you again. How does anything else matter? How does anyone else matter?

Sam wants to know if you'll audition and you have to stop yourself from crying, from crying gut-wrenching sobs right there in the hallway. You try to explain it to him, to tell him about you and Kurt, about how you'll never be the same, about how you had all these plans for your future together and how you ruined them all. You try and you try and you try. He doesn't seem to hear you, though, or understand. No one does. He thinks it's like when he and Mercedes broke up or when he and Santana broke up or when Rory and Sugar broke up or when anyone in the history of Glee broke up with their significant other and you bite your tongue. _It's nothing like that_, you want to tell him. _You don't understand_, you want to scream.

Kurt wasn't just your boyfriend. He was so much more than that. What you had was so much more than what anyone else in the school has ever had, so much more than what any of them could possibly dream up or think to want for themselves. You two were eternity. You were forever. You were soul mates. Not in the young, immature, unrealistic way. No, you were soul mates, plain and simple. You had plans, so many plans. The only reason you weren't committed to each other for real, the only reason you hadn't moved to New York and made it official was your age. If you had met in five or ten years, you would have been engaged or married or adopting a puppy together by now. Kurt was your everything. Kurt _is_ your everything. Kurt is gone forever. So, of course Sam doesn't understand or know what to say to make you feel better. No one can understand. Nothing can make you feel better. You're a terrible person. And as much as you're tired of feeling like a terrible person, you know it's so true, so very true that you can't help but continue to feel it.

You audition for Grease because you owe it to Artie - who made you his Tony - and to Finn, whose brother you betrayed. You sing and you think of Kurt; which is a given, because Kurt is all you think about.

You wake up and you think of Kurt. You get dressed and you think of Kurt. You go to class and you eat lunch and you go home and you think of Kurt. You go to bed and you think of Kurt. You cry and you think of Kurt. You remember and you think of Kurt. You breathe and you think of Kurt.

Artie and Finn tell you you'd be the Danny Zuko of your dreams but you can't be that for them or for anyone. You choke back a sob and tell them as much, tell them you can't really be anything, not anymore. They pretend to hear you, pretend to understand.

They cast you as Teen Angel, because you said if you had to be anything, that's what you'd be. They missed the point. You didn't want to be anything. You can't be anything. You are nothing. Kurt is gone and now you have nothing and now you are nothing.

* * *

You learn your lines and your steps and your lyrics. You get fitted for your costume. You rehearse and you try - you really try - to forget and to breathe and to focus.

You can't though, not really. Kurt is all you see, all you feel, all you want, all you need. Kurt is everywhere and yet he is nowhere to be found. Kurt is miles away, yet you feel him haunting you.

And then, all at once, Kurt is there. Kurt is right in front of you. Kurt.

* * *

It's weird. How could it not be? It's you next to Finn and it's Kurt next to Rachel and you utter a few words and it's weird. You can't tear your eyes from Kurt and you catch him staring and he looks away and you look away and it's heaven and it's hell and it's everything you need. It's Kurt.

He's gone before you know it and you're shaken up. You're shaken up because it's Kurt and he's back and he's in the same room as you, he's sitting in a chair in the audience, he's there, he'll be watching you. You get on that stage and you do it for Kurt. You do everything for Kurt. He's everything. He's Kurt.

You feel like you're sleepwalking, like you're performing but it's not really you, you're not really there. You say your lines and you look into the audience and oh, there he is. You do a double take and almost stumble over a line. You hope he didn't notice. You hope he noticed. You hope.

You get a standing ovation when it's all over. The crowd loved it and loved you and your eyes are still locked on Kurt. Did he love it? Did he love you? Does he care? Does he miss you? Does he feel like you do: as if a part of you has literally been ripped from you, torn unceremoniously, and now you're left, incomplete and crashing and dying and no one can help you?

You find each other in the hallway and you just want to apologize. You just want to explain. If you can say you're sorry, maybe it will be better. If he knows it meant nothing, maybe it will go away. If he forgives you or looks at you or smiles at you or listens, maybe it will be like it never happened. Maybe you'll stop feeling so miserable, so meaningless, so hopeless. Maybe you'll stop feeling like a terrible person.

But he doesn't listen and he doesn't forgive you and he doesn't smile. He says all the things you feared he would and he doesn't trust you and he's gone.

Kurt doesn't trust you. The love of your life - your soul mate and better half and everything that matters - doesn't trust you. Because you're a miserable excuse for a boy. You're a bad, bad person.

You're self-hatred grows and, somehow, so does your love for him. As you feel more and more miserable, you feel more and more remorse for what you threw away. For the perfect boy you hurt, for the love you ruined.

You can't help it: you love him and you always will. You love him. So very much. Seeing him only reminds you of that all-consuming, eternal love, of that flame that won't flicker, of that knowledge that's becoming more and more of a burden with each passing day.

You miss him. You'll never stop missing him. You don't know if this is something from which you can ever recover. You don't know if he will ever talk to you again, ever look at you and smile, ever hug you or touch you. You don't know if he will ever love you again. You don't know if he will miss you when he leaves.

You don't know if he will ever trust you again. That might be the worst part of it; as if any of the worst things in the entire world could possibly be worse than the others. But if one is the worst, it's that: he doesn't trust you.

And you don't blame him. After all, you don't trust yourself.


	3. To let my lips say everything you mean

**Author's Note:** Here is the last segment from my journey inside Blaine's head. If anything is out of order or incorrect, you can just call that my head!canon I guess! Title from the lovely song "Letters" by Branches. Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you so review if you'd be so kind! :)

* * *

Part Three:

You call him and text him and message him but he doesn't respond. And it's no wonder why: he doesn't trust you. How could he? But, you keep trying. You'll never stop trying. Kurt is Kurt and he will always be Kurt; and he is your soul mate and your best friend and your everything. So you keep trying.

* * *

You try to find distractions, too. You become Nightbird, vanquisher of evil, protector of good. It's a crock and a joke because, really, aren't you the evil one? What good have you done? But, it helps a little, so you go with it.

The Warblers steal your trophy and no one seems to care enough to do anything about it, so you do. Nightbird does.

Maybe you do it so you can do something right, so you can have some redeemable quality, given all the terrible things you've done. Maybe you do it so you can feel like you matter, like you're important. Maybe you just do it because you need a distraction, because you're desperate for a break from your thoughts and your mind and your self-loathing.

You go to Dalton and you see a newly reformed, hair-gelled Sebastian and you meet Hunter and his creepy cat. It's weird and different and yet familiar at the same time. You used to belong here. You used to sing with these boys, to dance on that table, to sit on that couch. You used to love it here, used to cherish the time you spent practicing and singing and performing. It feels like a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago. It was before Kurt and then it was _with_ Kurt. It was before you messed everything up. You life as Warbler Blaine is a distant memory; he is an echo of who you used to be.

When they want you to sing with them, you're reluctant. You're not a Warbler, you'll never be a Warbler again. But you give in. Something is whispering in your brain to do it, to sing with them, to enjoy yourself, to go back to the days before things got so complicated. When's the last time someone begged you to sing? You put on the jacket and you sing Dark Side and it's ironic because Kurt doesn't trust you and can't love you with your dark side, but you sing anyway. You forget about the words and the meaning and Kurt and you just sing. You dance and sway and _sing_. You let yourself get caught up in it, get lost in it and it feels amazing. It feels empowering and welcoming and wonderful. It feels like home.

When you're almost done and you're singing about not running away, you realize that running away is all you ever done, you take off the jacket and you leave. You can't run away, not again.

Can you?

* * *

Back at McKinley you're reminded of how little you matter, how little you mean, how little they care. You remember how you felt months ago, how you longed for Dalton, for being a Warbler and a rockstar and a part of something, again. You remember how it felt to have friends. You remember what it felt like to matter. You remember how you wanted to matter again.

You remember and you start to wonder. Maybe it doesn't count as running away if you're returning to somewhere you've already been, somewhere you feel welcome, somewhere you belong. Maybe that's just being brave. Maybe that's just following your heart.  
Your heart used to belong here, at McKinley, with Kurt, but what if it doesn't anymore? What's tying you here? What matters here anymore?

* * *

You decide and you make a few calls and you tell Finn and you feel free. It still feels a bit like running away, but that's okay. You're ready for something new, somewhere new, somewhere that doesn't remind you of Kurt. Because everything about McKinley - the school to which you came for Kurt and Kurt alone - reminds you of that beautiful, heart-breaking boy.

Sam confronts you and you don't see it coming. His words echo in your brain and you wonder, does he mean it? Do you mean something to him? Should you stay? Dalton still calls to you, still feels like the perfect fresh start, the perfect escape, but you humor Sam. You give him one day. And oh, what a day it is.

You do good. You do good deeds and good things for the first time in far too long. You spend time with Tina and Brittany and Sam and the new kids and you have fun. You remember that you have friends, even if they aren't your best friends the way Kurt was, even if they don't stroke your ego the way the Warblers did. They are your friends. You are not alone. You remember that you may have come to McKinley for Kurt, but you found more than Kurt welcoming you there. It took time, sure, but you forged other connections, you formed other friendships, you started to belong.

The black hole of despair that has consumed your life has distracted you from the reality around you. You are not a pariah or a reject, you are a human. And these other humans accept you and like you and want you. It might not always feel that way, but that's okay. You take the good with the bad, the smiles with the frowns, the insults with the compliments. Life is all about making the best of things, right? If you want to be happy, you have to try to be happy - if you give up entirely, you only have yourself to blame. So, maybe it's time you start trying again.

You smile and it feels foreign and forced and wrong, but it's a start. It's a smile. It's a step in the right direction - or, if not the right direction, than at least a direction, which is more than you had yesterday - so you decide to follow it where it leads.

Maybe you let yourself get so caught up in Kurt and Eli and the horrible things you did that you forgot. Maybe they do care about you, maybe you do matter to them, maybe your home isn't at Dalton after all.

You sing with Sam and you feel alive; more alive than you've felt in ages, more alive than you've felt since you sang to Kurt all those weeks ago about beginning and starting fresh and seizing the day. You're on that stage and Sam's there with you and it feels so right. It's a light bulb moment of sorts and all of a sudden you see clearly: You don't need the Warblers behind you to make you a star. You don't need Kurt to be happy. You are alive and you are imperfect and that's okay. You can be a star, you can be a hero, you can be happy again - even if it's not the same kind of happiness before, it'll still be a start - all you have to do is let yourself.

Sam asks you how you feel at the end of the day and you realize how much better you feel, how you really don't want the day to end. You know what you have to do. So you do it.

* * *

The trophy is retrieved and the jacket - and all it represents - rejected, so you and Sam return to the choir room, to McKinley, to your home.

You apologize, and in a way you're apologizing to Kurt, too, even though he's not there. He won't listen, but they will. He won't forgive you, but they might. You can't do right by him, but maybe you can do right by them. So, you recognize the error of your ways. You turned your back on the New Directions and you shouldn't have. You ask for their forgiveness. You remember all they've done for you and you for them. You remember the good times and the bad and the dance numbers and the sing-offs and you take a deep breath, a deeper one than you've taken lately.

When you say it, you mean it with all of your heart. It isn't contrived or scripted or purposeful. It just is. They are your home. You are home. You'll be okay.

* * *

Before you know it, it's time to practice for Sectionals. Finn picks some weird songs but you don't really care. You'll be featured in a duet, but you don't really care. You don't need to be a star or the center of attention. You're content to sit in the back, to greet the alumni with a smile, to fade into the chorus of voices, to blend in. You're good at blending in. You finally start to feel like you belong again. You belong here, you feel at home with these singers, these misfits, these friends. You're content. You're not happy, not the way you used to be, not really, but you're getting there.

You learn the steps to Gangam Style and you miss Kurt, miss your dancing partner, miss your best friend. You try to replace him with Sam, who is, really, a great guy, but it doesn't work. He's not Kurt. He'll never be Kurt.

You miss him constantly. You miss him so much it aches deep inside your chest. That fist around your heart squeezes more and more each day. You text him and call him but you hear nothing. It's no surprise.

You decide to adjust your expectations, to prepare yourself for the worst. You decide you'll settle for just being his friend - if that's all he'll have - forever if he'll let you. You would be his best friend - nothing more and nothing less - until the end of time, if he'd allow it. Because, for as much as you miss Kurt's lips and his love and that secret smile he reserved for you and you alone, you miss Kurt - plain old Kurt - more than that. You miss his laugh and his voice and his eyes and his friendship and his kindness. You miss his humor and his helpfulness and his stubbornness and his perfect imperfection. You want him in your life so badly it hurts, even if he can only be in your life as a friend. What you wouldn't give to be his friend again!

You should probably give up, but you won't. Not now, not ever. It's Kurt. You will never give up on Kurt.

* * *

You dream about him. You keeping thinking you see him in the hallway, keep rushing around corners to find that you were wrong, it wasn't him, he's not here, he's gone. Your days get better but once the sun sets, things are worse. You cry yourself to sleep some nights. Most nights.

You think back on the past few months and on everything you did wrong. You remember what he did wrong, too. You know it takes two to tango, two to drift, two to ruin a relationship. But you're the only one who cheated. You know Kurt isn't blameless, but you know you deserve more blame than he.

You wish on every shooting star and 11:11 and fallen eyelash and burnt out headlight that you can make it right, somehow. For a while, you wished you could go back in time, change the past, make yourself a better boyfriend, a better person, but you can't. Instead, you decide to start wishing about the future, about what's to come, about what might be waiting around the corner. You wish for Kurt's forgiveness, for his acceptance, and - in that blind, loving way that you know is hopeless but you just can't help but feel anyway - for his love.

You wish for a chance to redeem yourself, you wish for a day when you can make it right, you wish for a day when you can make him see how much you love him. You wish for a time, years from now, when these horrible weeks are but distant memories, long-forgotten days that became insignificant blips on your radar; a time when you are with Kurt and you love him and he loves you and all is right with the world, again. It's a daring wish, a foolish wish, a hopelessly romantic kind of wish, but you wish it anyway. You can't help it. You can't resist. You wish for Kurt with every fiber of your being, with every breath you take, with every blink of your eye. He is the only wish you have left. He is the only wish that matters. He is your only wish.

You miss him. You need him. You love him. You wish for him. Over and over and over.

* * *

It's Thanksgiving and you're all dressed up and ready to sing, ready to win. The Warblers perform and they're good. They're great, really, but you try not to psych yourself out. You've triumphed over them before and you'll do it again. And if you don't, that's okay, too. Kurt isn't here to see you fail. You would be sad to lose, sure, but more for the others than for yourself. You've already been a champion. You've already won. You already had your chance at glory and happiness and you messed it all up anyway.

You stretch and warm up and you're ready. And then your phone rings.

As you look at the screen, you almost drop your phone. You blink quickly, again and again. Surely, your mind is playing tricks on you. Just because your caller ID says Kurt Hummel doesn't mean it's him. It can't possibly be him. You answer, doubtful and hopeful and terrified.

It's him. It's Kurt.

He asks if you can hear him and you can. You can. Thank God, you can.

You try to talk, to apologize but he wants to go first and you owe him that. He's talking to you for the first time in so long and he doesn't sound scathing or seething or angry, he just sounds like Kurt. He just sounds wonderful. He just sounds like home.

He tells you he's not ready to forgive you and you understand. How can he forgive you when you can't even forgive yourself? But it sounds like he's trying. He tells you he misses you like crazy and you feel your heart break and soar and fall all at once. Tears fill your eyes. He misses you. You hurt him - and he might be there with you right now, cheering you on, if you hadn't - and it's all your fault and he misses you. He misses you. Maybe he doesn't hate you. He misses you.

He tells you he can't stand not talking to you. He tells you you're still his best friend and you don't think it's possible for you to feel more than you feel in that moment. You feel everything. You feel cheerful and remorseful and excited and nervous and happy and sad, all at once. If you felt more, your heart would surely burst.

You tell him he's your best friend, too, because it's as true as anything you've ever known. You're supposed to be letting him talk but you can't help but say it through the tears. He's wonderful and beautiful and everything to you. He's Kurt and _of course_ he's your best friend.

He starts talking about Christmas. About all these things you'll do together at Christmas and you swear you've heard him wrong, but he keeps talking. He wants to see you at Christmas. You're going to see him at Christmas. It's surreal and unbelievable and wonderful and he makes a joke about the Lima Bean and it's the funniest, most amazing thing you've ever heard. Because he wants to see you at Christmas. He hasn't given up on you, not completely. He doesn't hate you, not really. He might not trust you, but he's trying. You can hear it in his voice. He's trying. You laugh and it comes out as a half-sob but you don't care.

You ask because you need to know he's not just saying it. You need to know he means it, that you'll see him at Christmas. Your voice betrays all the hope and pain and excitement you're feeling but he just says yes. He means it. He's not just saying it. You're going to see each other on Christmas. You're going to spend Christmas with Kurt, your soul mate, your best friend. You want to scream and cry and laugh and cheer with joy and tell him everything's going to be okay. You want to tell him so many things. He starts talking about the Warblers and he wishes you a Happy Thanksgiving and you can hear something in his voice, too, something sad, something that sounds an awful lot like he's about to cry or he's already crying, which just makes the tears in your eyes fall faster.

You wish him a Happy Thanksgiving, too, but it's not enough. It's nothing compared to everything you want to tell him. It's Kurt. He's everything and he's talking to you and he doesn't hate you and he misses you and you're still his best friend and he's trying to forgive you and you're going to see him at Christmas. It's so much. It's too much. And Happy Thanksgiving just doesn't cut it.

You don't know if you should say it but you want to, so badly. You take a breath and you steel yourself for rejection or anger or whatever he might throw at you. It comes out in a whisper, in a breath, all at once. Truer words have never been spoken. You love him. You love him so much.

He takes a breath and you're ready to hear a rejection or a thank you or something vague but what you get it so much more than that. What you get is so much better. He says those three words you already know and it's all you can do not to start sobbing, not to start laughing hysterically, not to spontaneously combust. You've heard him say those words so many times but this time means so much more. In spite of everything you've done and everything you wish you could take back, in spite of the fact that he can't trust or forgive you, not yet, he loves you. Kurt loves you.

You don't want to hang up and you hope he doesn't want to either. Not if hanging up means returning to your separate lives, not if hanging up means missing the sound of his voice and his breath, not if hanging up means ending the moment - this beautiful, unforgettable moment. You never want to hang up. You never want to say goodbye. Not in any form. Not a "see you soon" or a "talk to you later" or a "goodbye for now." He once told you he'd never say goodbye to you and, true to his word, he doesn't. You hang up because you have to and you don't say goodbye, either. You never will.

For the first time in what feels like a thousand lifetimes you have hope. You have hope that you and Kurt aren't doomed, that one day, maybe, you can grow back together again. You have hope and it's not naive or unwarranted or baseless. It's real, true, genuine hope. Because he loves you. Kurt loves you.

It doesn't solve anything. It doesn't make any of it go away. You're not boyfriends again, you're not forgiven, you're not going back to the way things used to be. You'll probably never be able to recover, not fully. You can't ever get back what you lost, you know that. But maybe, just maybe, you can get something different, something better instead.

Kurt loves you and that's all that really matters. You're best friends, still, and he's trying and that's a miracle. You're going to have a heart to heart at Christmas and maybe then you can start on your way to something new. You will never be the same Blaine you were before and he'll never be the same Kurt. You can't go back to being that perfect, naive, bright-eyed couple. You can't go back to being each others first and only's. And, although that's a little bit heart-breaking, maybe it's a little bit okay, too.

You can't change the past, you can never change the past. That much you know. But you can learn. You can grow. You can fight and you can try with everything you have and you can love so much it hurts. If you're lucky, you can even succeed at winning him back. You can be together again. It won't be like it used to be, it'll be new and different and better. It will be more real. It will have been tested and tried and fought for and won. It will be stronger, it will be less breakable. It will be something you had to earn, something that didn't come naturally or easily or in a day or a month or a year. It will be something irreplaceable and unimaginable. It will be you both accepting your faults and forgiving your pasts and mistakes and starting again, starting fresh. It will be Kurt saying to you that he can love you even after you broke his heart, that you're worth it to him. It will be you saying to Kurt that you'll never doubt it, never doubt the two of you, ever again. It will be both of you agreeing to work hard and to never give up.

It will be different, but you know it could be different in so many good ways. You realize now how dependent you were on him; how he defined your happiness. And really, isn't that a lot to put on one person? You know that this time, if he lets you have a second chance, you will do things differently. You need to remember to have friends and passions and interests, to have a life apart from Kurt. You need to be you, first and foremost. To be happy and healthy and strong and independent and complete, without him. And if you can do that, and he can let you into his life again, he will not determine your happiness, he will only add to it. He won't complete you - because you'll be complete already - he'll just compliment you, he'll just add to what's already there, he'll be something marvelous and extraordinary and he will be his own person, too.

Because life shouldn't be about finding your better half and depending on them for happiness and support and everything, the way you did before. Life should be about being your own better half, for relying on yourself for happiness, for loving yourself, above all else. And finding someone to share your life and your happiness - to hold your hand, to help you along the way, to make you laugh and feel and smile and love - should be a gift, not the one thing that keeps you alive. It should be a part of your life, but not the only part that matters.

You feel it and you can see it and you know that it would work. You want it. You want it so badly you can barely breathe.

You walk back to join the others and you feel a hundred pounds lighter. The fist around your heart loosens, giving you a break, freeing you of its confines. You are ready to meet this day and the next day, whatever it may bring, ready to walk this path, wherever it may lead.

Kurt is your soul mate; you don't know how you ever doubted it, but you know you never will again. You are ready, so very ready to step confidently in the direction of your future, your future with Kurt. If you can make it work, again, if you can find your way back together, you have no doubt that it will be amazing, the best thing that's ever happened to you or him or anyone, anywhere, anytime. You vow to make it happen, to make him believe the way you do, to spend the rest of your life making him as happy as you can manage. And, you hope that one day - maybe at Christmas or in a few months or a few years - he will agree to believe, too. To move forward and to grow and to fight and to live and to love. Together. Forever.

The End.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you SO much for reading! This is the end of my story for now. Depending on what the future of Season Four brings, I might be struck with the inspiration to write more, we'll see! I've also toyed with the idea of writing a companion to this from Kurt's point of view, so that might be in your future, too. Leave me a review if you'd like. They make me oh so happy! :)


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